


Waiting for a Sign

by iamtheenemy (Steph)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Time, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Pining, Service Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22080649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph/pseuds/iamtheenemy
Summary: Richie got tall. And broad. He had these wide shoulders and big hands that he’d gesture with emphatically when making some dumb joke about fucking Eddie’s dead mother. At one point, he poured Eddie a finger of Jameson and when Eddie tried to wave it off, Richie took hold of his wrist with one hand and pressed the glass into Eddie’s open palm with the other.Eddie took a long sip as he had two equally shocking and mortifying thoughts in quick succession. The first wasI want his hand around my dick, followed byholy fuck, I’m in love with this dirty asshole.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 82
Kudos: 1560





	Waiting for a Sign

From the moment Mike called him, Eddie’s memories, which a truckload of highly-paid therapists told him were probably gone forever, began trickling back to him in tiny snatches. He remembered things he had no context for: bright red hair, a rickety hammock, a familiar stretch of woods, the pleasant exhaustion that came from a day spent riding his bike.

He also remembered darker things, things that his brain seemed to instinctively shy away from: the crack of his arm breaking, running until his lungs felt like they would burst, sinister eyes glowing in the dark…

But over all of that, louder than anything else, a name thrummed inside of his head: _Richie Richie Richie_.

By the time he arrived at Jade of the Orient, he’d taken migraine medication to deal with the pounding brought on by every new memory suddenly blinking back into existence inside his mind. The waitress lead him to a table in the back where two men were waiting. One second the men were total strangers, and the next, they were Mike and Bill. _Of course_ they were Mike and Bill, how the _fuck_ had Eddie forgotten about them?

And then that gong sounded, and Eddie turned around and saw Richie Tozier, the trashy dick joke comedian. No wait, that was Richie, his best friend. And next to him: Bev with that same red hair, and Ben looking fit as fuck. The Losers, except Stan. Where was Stan?

They started drinking immediately, swapping stories and jogging each other’s memories about shit that happened almost thirty years before. Eddie, though, he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from Richie, still with those big glasses and terrible shirts. Still so fucking loud and inappropriate.

Richie got tall though. And broad. He had these wide shoulders and big hands that he’d gesture with emphatically when making some dumb joke about fucking Eddie’s dead mother. At one point, he poured Eddie a finger of Jameson and when Eddie tried to wave it off, Richie took hold of his wrist with one hand and pressed the glass into Eddie’s open palm with the other.

Eddie took a long sip as he had two equally shocking and mortifying thoughts in quick succession. The first was _I want his hand around my dick_ , followed by _holy fuck, I’m in love with this dirty asshole._

He’d always known he was attracted to men, and had even tried a few things in college, but once he’d settled down with Myra, he thought he’d put those feelings to rest. He never had much of a sex drive anyway, which was why he and Myra got along in the beginning. He didn’t feel any pressure to have sex with her, and when they did do it, it was as perfunctory and sanitary as possible.

Now Eddie watched Richie wrap his lips around a shot of tequila and upend it so the liquor slid down his throat, some of it dribbling out of his mouth. He spit the empty glass onto the table and looked at them with a shiteating grin. Eddie had to cross his legs under the table to hide how the whole display made his dick go half-mast.

Eddie finished off his own beer and signaled the waitress for another. He was buzzed and on his way to drunk, which was the excuse he gave himself when he couldn’t stop staring at the dark hair on Richie’s arms, the surprising definition of his biceps, and just how long his fingers were.

The waitress returned with his beer, and he took a drink and tuned back into the conversation to hear Richie challenging Ben to arm wrestle.

“I could beat you,” Eddie said.

Richie turned to look at him, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“With those little spaghetti arms?” he asked.

“Hey, fuck you, I work out,” Eddie said.

“Fight, fight!” Bev chanted, slapping the table.

Eddie put his elbow on the table and held up his arm. Richie adjusted his chair so that he could get into position. Eddie tried his best not to notice how much wider Richie’s palm was than his own, or how good it felt to touch him.

Richie won easily, but Eddie liked to think that he would have put up more of a fight if his dick hadn’t been hard enough to pound nails.

By the time the fucking fortune cookies turned into his worst childhood nightmares, he was almost grateful for the distraction.

* * *

Everything went to shit after that. Having Richie’s hands pressing against his shoulder to staunch Eddie’s bleeding and Eddie passing out from the pain was like a monkey’s paw version of the thoughts he’d been having. This crass motherfucker he’d somehow wanted for both twenty-four hours and twenty-seven years was desperately touching him, but only because Eddie was about to fucking die.

He couldn’t even take advantage of Richie’s hand in his when he woke up in a hospital bed some time later, since Eddie was riding high as a kite on morphine. All he could manage was a weak squeeze, which Richie returned with two hands.

“Eds,” Richie said, eyes shining, “the doctor told us you’re gonna be okay in a few days.”

“Good,” Eddie slurred back, his head feeling like it was floating away from his body. “Alien claw fucking clown bullshit.”

Richie huffed a laugh. “Well said, buddy. Go back to sleep. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

“K,” he agreed, and drifted off.

* * *

Somehow it was always Eddie who ended up with his arm in a cast.

With a clearer head, Eddie could recall the moment when Richie had pushed him to the side, making that giant claw slash relatively harmlessly through his shoulder and upper arm instead of right through his gut. Richie had saved his life, which didn’t explain why the guy looked like a kicked puppy for the whole week Eddie was stuck in the hospital.

When the doctor weaned him off the morphine and he started feeling better, the other Losers left one at a time. First it was Mike, who couldn’t get out of Derry fast enough, then Ben and Bev went together, and finally Bill. Richie stayed around the longest, claiming he had nowhere else to be, but even he took off once Eddie got up the nerve to call Myra.

Eddie couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have wanted to stick around for that shitshow either. He told himself that he and Richie would still talk. Now that all the Losers were reunited, they’d never lose touch. He'd still get to be Richie’s friend, still get to hear his stupid jokes. They’d made a plan to all meet up for a non-life-threatening vacation soon. And Richie kept talking about how he had tour dates in Reno to get to. Eddie couldn’t beg him to stay. He had a whole life to return to. They both did.

Eddie knew that he had to end it with Myra. Now that the floodgates were open, wow, he was super fucking gay. But there was a difference between knowing he had to do something and actually getting the balls to do it. And so he called his wife and apologized as she alternated between berating him and cooing over him and demanding to speak to his doctor.

Richie's last day in Derry was a Tuesday. Eddie had finished his physical therapy when he walked in, a bag over one shoulder.

“You taking off?” Eddie asked, stomach tightening.

“Yeah, my flight leaves at four. I just wanted to stop in and say goodbye before I head to the airport,” Richie said.

“Bye, asshole,” Eddie said with forced levity. “Don’t forget about me again.”

“You either,” Richie said.

Richie shuffled his feet a bit, looking like there was some kind of struggle going on in his head. Then he rolled his eyes at himself and dropped his bag on the floor with a gentle thud before striding over to the shitty recliner in the corner of the room where Eddie sat.

For a moment, Eddie thought Richie was going to kiss him. Instead, he placed his hands on either side of Eddie’s face and rested their foreheads together for a long moment.

“I’m so fucking glad you’re not dead,” he said shakily.

“Same,” Eddie agreed. “Thanks for making sure I stayed that way.”

“My pleasure,” Richie said. Then he stepped away and picked up his bag, hiking it back up his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger, Eddie Spaghetti. Your wife getting here soon?”

“Uh…” Eddie said, blinking slowly as he tried to regain composure and store away the memory of Richie’s hands on his face. “Couple hours.”

“Cool. Tell Mrs. K I said hi,” Richie answered, making his way to the door. “See you.”

“See you,” Eddie replied faintly.

* * *

Maybe if Richie wasn’t famous, Eddie could have found a way to let it go. A couple furtive jerk off sessions in the shower after he got back to New York and the image of Richie’s big hands and wide smile and improbably flattering stubble would fade from his mind.

But Richie _was_ famous, and the internet never forgot.

Eddie lasted three days before giving in and typing ‘Richie Tozier’ into the YouTube search bar. Just seeing Richie in the thumbnails was enough to make Eddie’s heart thud, what the fuck. He had to scroll past a bunch of news videos about Richie's supposed mental breakdown, but after that he landed on some old stand-up.

Before he clicked on the first video, he got up and made sure that the door of his study was locked. Then he turned off the lights and put on a pair of earbuds.

It was an older performance. The date on the video was 2010. Richie’s hair was a bit longer and falling into his eyes. He wore a Van Halen t-shirt and jeans with holes in both knees. Eddie could tell him was nervous by the way he kept rubbing the palm of the hand over his thigh. The set was seven minutes and thirty-two seconds long. By the end, Eddie was leaned back in his desk chair, breath slowing, and cleaning himself up.

And that was how Eddie ended up jerking it more in the five months that followed than he had in the first forty years of his life.

Myra went to sleep at 9:15 every night. When he was sure she was out, Eddie would go into his study and pull up videos on his laptop. He jerked off to Richie’s shitty stand-up sets, staring at the way one hand wrapped around the microphone and the other loosely held onto the top of the stand. He jerked off to talk show interviews, reluctantly charmed by Richie’s high-pitched, uncontrollable laughter. It burst out of him with the surprise of a person who'd never heard a joke before, and he’d cover his face with his hands to try and hide it.

Eddie jerked off to some fucking NYU interview of Richie, earnest for once, gesticulating as he tried to explain comedy to a bunch of college kids.

Eddie looked up his IMDB page and made his way through all of the entries. Near the bottom was a stoner comedy from the early 2000s. Richie only had a bit part as one of the main character’s friends, but one scene had him getting high, stripping off his shirt and jumping into a swimming pool.

Eddie came so fast, he barely got his dick out of his pants. Then he went online and found just that scene. He downloaded it onto his computer to a folder called ‘tax summaries’ hidden within four other subfolders like the dirtiest porn.

Also not helping matters was the fact that he and Richie talked all the time between the Losers group text and their personal one. Richie got a dog and spammed everyone with a thousand pictures and videos of her a day. He sent Eddie stupid memes and purposely misspelled texts filled with obnoxious emojis.

Eddie was so fucking in love with him, it felt like he was going to break apart with it.

Since returning home from Derry, the flood of new memories had slowed to a trickle every now and again. Their group text was full of the Losers sharing little things that had come back to them.

Six weeks later, Eddie was laying on his couch watching an episode of _Law & Order: SVU_. Myra had long since gone to bed, so he was on his own. Shifting to get comfortable, Eddie moved one of the cushions from behind his head and into his lap.

Something about the sense memory of that jogged his mind, and suddenly he was back in his childhood bedroom at thirteen-years-old. Richie had slept over the night before. That night when Eddie went to bed, he laid down on the pillow Richie had used, and it smelled like him.

Face bright red with shame, Eddie had put the pillow over his face and his hand down his shorts and stroked himself off for the first time. He tried telling himself that he was inhaling germs, but when he remembered they were _Richie’s_ germs, it got teenage Eddie’s motor running even harder.

That epiphany was not one that he shared in the group text, but it did cause him to pivot from jerking off while watching Richie to jerking off while thinking about what him. It was somehow both more and less shameful doing it that way.

Eddie went from having almost no sex drive to jerking it sometimes twice a day to relieve the pressure.

He had a few go-to fantasies. In the shower, he usually went with Richie giving him a simple handy. It was quick and got the job done. If he had time, he’d lube up his fingers and go to town, pretending it was Richie’s fingers slowly opening him one at a time. He had some weird ones too. Shit that probably wouldn’t even work if Richie were to do it to him in real life, but definitely did the trick in his head. Once he brought himself off by imagining Richie just tracing one long finger up, down and around his dick. It took forever to come, but when he did, it was so fucking worth it.

The constant among all of the material in Eddie’s spank bank was Richie’s hand wrapping tight around Eddie and milking his dick.

His secret weapon, though, the one he pulled out when he had to be quick because Myra was coming home or he needed to be somewhere, was of riding Richie’s dick, Richie’s strong thighs straining beneath him, as their mouths met sloppily and Richie jerked him off. Got him off in two minutes or less every goddamn time.

* * *

It was on a Thursday that Myra and Eddie were sitting at the kitchen table eating a dinner of grilled chicken breast and kale salad when Eddie’s phone buzzed.

“Eddie, you know I hate it when you bring your phone to the table,” Myra said.

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie replied, but he still unlocked it to read the new message in their group text.

It was from Richie, and it just said, _so fyi i’m gay_. All lowercase with little emoji jazz hands at the end. Eddie stared at it for several seconds, reading and rereading it, half expecting Richie to follow it up with a text saying he was joking.

Instead, congratulations started pouring in from the other Losers, making his phone buzz every few seconds.

“Eddie, _really_ ,” Myra said.

He silenced his phone and turned it over so the screen was down. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Myra, I’m gay.”

Her fork dropped onto her bowl of salad. “I’m sorry?”

“And I want a divorce.”

* * *

On Friday, Eddie drafted a resignation letter, effective immediately, for his job. He packed a bag.

But Saturday afternoon, he was outside of Richie’s house, knocking on his door.

* * *

“Wha…” Richie said as Eddie pushed his way in. “Eds?”

“Yes,” Eddie said, but looking at Richie, he felt all of his confidence and bravado start to fade. “Yes, fuck. Hi.”

“Hi?” Richie responded. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I…” Eddie peeled his bag off of his shoulder and stared at it. Richie took it from him and tossed it on the couch.

“Eddie?” he asked, looking concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“I left my wife,” Eddie said, because that seemed as good a place as any to start.

Richie’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. OK. Sorry, I’m just surprised, that’s all. You didn’t mention you’ve been thinking about that when we’ve talked.”

“I have been,” Eddie said.

“Clearly,” Richie said.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Eddie could feel his blood thrumming beneath his skin. He began to bounce on the balls of his feet to try to get rid of the excess energy.

“Are you taking it OK?” Richie asked. “Do you want to sit down? Can I get you something to drink? Or eat? I mean, I don’t have any food, but I do have a Doordash account.”

“Gay!” Eddie blurted out suddenly and slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Um…” Richie said, looking taken aback.

“You are,” Eddie finished lamely from between his fingers.

“Gay, I am,” Richie agreed. “I noticed you didn’t respond to my big coming out in the group text. Is...that a problem?”

“No!” Eddie shouted. “No, god, fuck, obviously not. Look, I have money with me.”

Richie’s eyebrows nearly receded up into his hairline, and considering where it was currently located, that was saying something. “Eddie, this conversation is going in some weird directions.”

“I just mean that I have money to get a hotel, or I could stay with Bill if you don’t want me here,” Eddie said.

“Why wouldn’t I want you here?” Richie asked.

“I’m gay too,” Eddie said. He took a deep breath, shook out his arms and repeated, “I am too.”

Richie stumbled a bit as he made his way to the couch and sat down heavily. “You’re gay?”

Eddie laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Man, I’m gay as fuck, Rich.”

Richie’s hands clenched his knees and he looked down at the beige carpet beneath his bare feet. “OK, hang on, I need a second. You’ve dumped a lot of information on me all at once.” After a moment, he looked back up and asked, “Why do you think that would make me not want you here?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” Eddie snapped, and Richie made a choking sound.

Eddie began to pace the room, voice rising to try and drown out the creeping realization that he’d made a huge mistake.

He jabbed his finger in Richie’s face and continued, “You came out to us and within thirty-six hours I had nuked my ten year marriage, quit my job, packed my whole life into one bag, and waited six hours on standby for an open seat on a one-way flight across the country -- which I paid eight hundred fucking dollars for, by the way. And yes, that was six hours at the airport, another six hours on the plane and then almost two hours in an Uber to make it the five miles between LAX and here, because this city is the ninth circle of fucking hell. So you can do the math to figure out how fast that means I was out my front door after I got your message. I’m not exactly being subtle here, Richie!”

“ _What?_ ” Richie responded faintly.

Like a balloon pricked with a pin, Eddie felt all of the fight drain out of his body as the whirlwind of the last two days caught up with him. His throat constricted and, because this moment couldn’t get more humiliating, his eyes started to burn.

Jesus Christ, how stupid. How fucking…

“Stupid. This was such a stupid idea. Look, just forget about this,” Eddie said, squeezing the bridge of his nose and gritting his teeth. He refused to make things worse by showing up at Richie’s house unannounced, dropping this bombshell, and then capping it off by _crying_ in the middle of his living room. “It doesn’t matter, OK? It was selfish of me to lay all this on you, as if because we’re both gay that has to mean you want me back. So fucking presumptuous.”

Why hadn’t common sense stopped Eddie when he bought his ticket or got on the plane or called the Uber? Any time before he was standing in front of his best friend and ruining the relationship he’d just gotten back. He was a risk analyst. That was _literally_ his job.

“I’m gonna go. Get a hotel room. See the city. I...sorry. About all of this.”

Eddie didn’t even bother grabbing his bag beside Richie on the couch in his rush to the door. He’d already left most of what he owned with Myra anyway. He could always buy another iPad, but what he couldn’t do was stand there one more second while Richie gaped at him in confused horror.

Eddie twisted the knob and had it halfway open when both of Richie’s hands slammed it shut, his arms braced on either side of Eddie, his chest against Eddie’s back.

Slowly, his heart pounding, Eddie turned around to face Richie, who stared down at him with wide, dark eyes.

“Rich?” he said.

“Don’t go,” Richie said. “Just give me, like, ten seconds to process this, Eddie. Please.”

“Alright,” Eddie agreed.

As he watched, Richie closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. When he opened them, his gaze searched Eddie’s and one hand moved to cup Eddie’s cheek. Eddie licked his dry lips but otherwise stayed perfectly still.

“Eds, I need to know if you’re sure about this,” Richie said.

“Very fucking sure,” Eddie answered immediately.

Richie shook his head. “No, about me. What you said about me. If this is about realizing you’re gay and wanting to experiment with someone, just tell me. It’s fine, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want, because I’ve been in love with you since we were ten-years-old.”

Eddie was on his way to a fucking heart attack, but he couldn’t care less as a wild grin overtook his face. “Shit, for real? So all those times you talked about fucking my mom?”

“Deflection,” Richie said. “Or maybe sublimation? Transference? I don’t know, I’m not a fucking shrink. The point is, I’ll do anything you want. _Anything._ One nightstand, long weekend, fuckbuddies until you find someone better. You name it, and I’ll do it. But you have to tell me what it is now. I need to calibrate my expectations here, because I’m not sure I could take it if -- “

Eddie surged up and kissed him. Richie startled but quickly leaned down to meet Eddie halfway. The hand on Eddie’s cheek stayed there, a warm, comforting pressure, while his other arm slid down and around to the small of Eddie’s back.

“Why are you so fucking tall?” Eddie asked as he tangled both of his hands into Richie’s hair and pulled him down.

“Sorry,” Richie said, looking comically contrite.

“Get me somewhere horizontal and I’ll forgive you,” Eddie said. “Not the fucking floor.”

“Yeah,” Richie said, not actually moving. “Anything.”

Eddie pulled Richie further into the house. “I did my experimenting in college before I met Myra, OK? I know what I like, and I know what I want, and I want you. I _love_ you, Richie, I swear to god. I hated being so far away from you after I finally got you back. When you walked out of my hospital room that day, it broke my fucking heart.”

Richie made a wounded sound and lurched forward, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder and hugging him tightly.

“How is this real?” he asked.

Eddie kissed the messy top of his head, the edge of his ear, the rounded curve of his shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

“I don’t know, but can we figure it out later? I really need you to dick me down now,” Eddie answered.

Richie laughed, a thick, wet sound, and lifted his head. “Definitely yes,” he said as he wiped a hand over his eyes. “Bedroom is down that way.”

Eddie stepped away long enough to pull his polo over his head and gestured for Richie to do the same with his stupid band t-shirt.

“I might die,” Richie said, but he still fumbled to comply. “This might actually kill me, fair warning.”

“Not before I get off, asshole,” Eddie said. Then he allowed himself a long second to stare at all the bare skin in front of him and faltered. “Fuck.”

“Right?” Richie said, eyes wide as saucers.

“ _Bedroom_ ,” Eddie repeated and grabbed Richie by the drawstring of his sweatpants.

The two of them somehow made their way down the hall and through the bedroom door as Eddie kicked out of his shoes and then started on his belt.

“Pants off, dick out. Come on, Tozier,” Eddie said. He felt like a teenager after months of being constantly horny.

“I knew you’d be bossy,” Richie said delightedly while pushing his sweatpants down. Eddie rid himself of his own jeans and underwear and then they were both naked and half-hard. “Can I kiss you now, or do you have any other orders that.. _oof_.”

Eddie pushed him so that they both hit the bed with Richie beneath him. He wasted no time diving back in for another kiss and taking advantage of the easier angle to make it nice and deep and wet.

Under him, Richie tilted his head and slid his warm hands down the bare skin of Eddie’s back. The gentle touch made Eddie shudder, and he turned his head to catch his breath.

“Shit, shit, shit. God, Rich, your big fucking hands,” he gasped.

“Yeah?” Richie asked while his hands continued to skim down Eddie’s body, finally landing on his ass.

Eddie hissed and bent one knee so that he could rock his hard dick against Richie’s thigh. Their mouths clashed together again, clumsy but so good, for long minutes before Eddie pulled back again and spit into his left hand. He reached between them and grabbed Richie, giving him a few good tugs.

“I need you to fuck me,” Eddie said. “Richie, I need you to fuck me now before I shoot just from this.”

Richie grimaced and his dick bounced in Eddie’s grasp. “God, I fucking love you,” he said.

“Come on,” Eddie responded. “Where is the lube and condoms? I needed your fingers inside me yesterday.”

“Bedside drawer,” Richie answered.

Eddie climbed off of him and crawled to the nightstand. When he returned with the lube and a condom, Richie had pushed himself up against the headboard and was idly stroking his own dick and staring at Eddie. Eddie tossed the items against Richie’s chest and straddled his lap. He grabbed the bars on the headboard behind Richie and dove in for another kiss.

Richie’s hands went straight back to Eddie’s ass, fingertips pressing carefully inside. Eddie couldn’t stop the reedy groan that pulled from him.

“Oh god, I hate you, get them in me.”

“You wanna do it like this?” Richie asked, dragging his teeth down Eddie’s neck. “You wanna ride my dick, baby?”

Eddie’s whole body jolted. That was like something straight out of his favorite jerk off fantasy, except better, because it was really Richie’s thighs he was sitting on and Richie’s mouth on his collarbone. Eddie’s dick throbbed agonizingly between his legs, strong enough that for a moment he thought he was going to humiliate himself by coming on the spot.

“Eds?” Richie asked, sounding uncertain, and he realized that his eyes had fluttered shut and he had his nails dug into Richie’s shoulders in a way that had to be painful.

“Shit,” he gasped. He pulled back and rolled off of Richie and onto his hands and knees. “This way, come on.”

“Alright,” Richie agreed, that concerned note still in his voice. “If that’s how you want it. Fuck, you look good like that.”

Eddie had his head hanging between his arms and so was unprepared for Richie’s mouth on his ass, peppering it with open-mouthed kisses around his tailbone and up onto his lower back.

“Do not put your tongue in my ass,” Eddie said. “I’ve been traveling for fourteen hours. I’ll need to shower first.”

Eddie could feel the pointy jut of Richie’s chin against his tailbone move as he spoke. “But it’s on the table?” he asked.

“It’s on the table,” Eddie agreed.

He’d never done it before. It was definitely unsanitary. But maybe there wasn’t much difference between horny thirteen-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak and horny forty-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak, because the thought of doing something dirty with _Richie_ still made his dick hard.

“Wow, OK. Holy shit,” Richie breathed and his little kisses veered dangerously close to Eddie’s hole.

“Richie…” he warned.

“Right, yes, sorry.” The telltale click of the cap coming off the bottle of lube sounded and then a slick, blunt fingertip pushed inside of him

“Ohhh yeah,” Eddie sighed, wiggling back to get more of it. “That’s the stuff right there.”

“How long has it been since you’ve done this?” Richie asked. His finger sunk in up to the second knuckle.

“Got fucked? College. But I use my fingers all the time,” he said.

“You fingerfuck yourself?” Richie asked.

Richie pressed his free hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades to hold him steady as a second lubed up finger joined the first. Eddie relaxed into the careful stretch and glide.

“I like the way it feels,” Eddie said. “You do it better than I can.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Richie whined. “But for the record, this is my ideal way to go.”

He sped up the pace and twisted his fingers at just the right angle to make Eddie’s arms start to shake and his dick leak.

“Ah!” Eddie gasped. He slammed a fist down on the mattress and then grabbed the bedspread in both hands.

“Like this?” Richie asked, as he kept up that perfect rhythm and Eddie writhed into it helplessly.

“Stop, stop, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. Not without your dick in me, come on,” Eddie said. He groaned when Richie slid his fingers out, but then his dick was there, nudging against Eddie’s wet, open hole.

“This is gonna be over so fucking fast,” Richie said, a touch of pained laughter in his voice, before he pushed in.

The stretch was wider than Richie’s two fingers, and Eddie hissed. Richie stopped and let him adjust.

“Good?” he asked.

“I fucking love it,” Eddie said. “More lube, then keep going.”

“Eds,” Richie groaned once he’d bottomed out inside of him. Eddie went boneless, trusting Richie to hold him up with those two strong hands on his hips.

“Move, you asshole,” Eddie said. “Give it to me.”

Richie began to rock into him with short, shallow thrusts. “Eds. Eddie. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you’re here. I love you so much. God, you’re like a fucking wet dream. How are you so tight?”

“I wanna feel you tomorrow,” Eddie responded, and gasped his approval when Richie sped up, his movements becoming wild and uncoordinated as he slammed into him. “Yeah, Richie, so good. Love you love you love you.”

Richie shuddered above him and came with an ecstatic shout, hips twitching and straining as he drove his dick deep into Eddie.

“Fuck,” he croaked after a moment of silence. He gently pulled out, making Eddie whine at the emptiness. His hard dick swayed below him, desperate to be touched. The bed shifted as Richie did something behind him, and Eddie rolled over onto his back and up onto his elbows to watch him. “Fuck,” Richie said again, but this time it sounded reverent. “You want my hand or my mouth?”

“Hand,” Eddie answered. “Won’t take much.”

Richie instantly complied, and Eddie’s mouth went dry at the sight of it wrapped around his dick. As if marveling at the same thing, Richie ran his thumb over the pre-come beading on the head.

Eddie fell back on the bed and shut his eyes. He dug his heels into the mattress and used that as leverage to push up into Richie’s brutally fast strokes. He held out for five of them, which was four more than he thought he could, and then just fucking exploded, warm jizz striping his chest and stomach.

Desperately, he placed his hand over Richie’s on his dick and said, “Don’t stop, Rich.”

With Eddie’s direction, their hands kept up those quick, tight strokes until they’d milked every drop of come from him. When it got too painful, Eddie let go and Richie did too, releasing his spent dick and bending down to kiss Eddie nice and slow.

Eddie hummed into it for a second. Then he broke away and pushed at Richie’s shoulders until he was laying beside him. With one last burst of energy, Eddie flipped himself over onto his stomach and draped a leg over Richie’s waist, settling in. Richie’s arms came around his back, pulling him close.

“Didn’t expect you to be a cuddler,” Richie said.

Eddie lifted his head to glare up at him. “Got a problem with it?”

“No, no. Let the record show that I am 100% pro-cuddling,” Richie said. “It’s just the latest in a long list of pleasant surprises you’ve given me today.”

“Good,” Eddie grumbled. Richie ran a hand down Eddie’s spine, pulling a tired shiver out of him. “Keep doing that, that’s nice.”

“Yes, sir. Eddie Spaghetti, sir.”

Eddie contemplated complaining about the stupid nickname, but decided that he was too comfortable to care. He felt himself start to doze off when Richie cleared his throat above him.

“So. Out of curiosity, did you experience some kind of traumatic dick-riding event at some point in your life?” he asked.

The back of Eddie’s neck began to heat up, and his pushed his face into Richie’s chest. Richie seemed to notice his discomfort, because he continued, “Hey, if you don’t like something, you don’t like it. I was serious about doing whatever you want. But you seemed freaked out when I suggested it earlier.”

“Oh god,” Eddie said.

“I only ask because if someone was to have missed you saying that you were in love with me -- or if someone was still unable to believe that this is actually really happening, it might have appeared, to that casual observer, like maybe you didn’t want to have to look at me while we fucked…?” Richie said, trailing off awkwardly.

“Are you kidding me?” Eddie demanded. “I blew up my whole life, flew 3,000 miles and begged you to fuck me. Do I need to get a skywriter or something?”

“OK. Well, first of all, I want to be clear that I wouldn’t turn that down. But second, I’m willing to admit that this is more about my issues than anything you did or didn’t do,” Richie admitted.

“Fine, you want to know why I freaked out earlier, asswipe? It’s because I’ve been jerking it to thoughts of riding your dick since I got back to New York.”

“Wait, what?” Richie asked.

“You heard me. Three times a week for the last six months, it’s been visions of bouncing on your dick getting me off at night. I almost fucking came just from you _saying_ it. If we had tried to do it, I would have shot my load before you could get it in. Happy?”

Eddie lifted his head to look at Richie and groaned when he saw tears in his eyes.

“Motherfucker, tell me you are not crying about this. Tell me you’re not turning me admitting my jerk-off fantasies into a romantic moment.”

“Sorry,” Richie said with a rueful laugh, wiping a hand over his eyes. “It’s just that my best case scenario answer to that question was that you had, like, hip problems or something.”

Eddie said, “My hips are in perfect condition, thank you very much. I’m forty not sixty. Go to sleep, you idiot.” He pressed a kiss to Richie’s chest. “Also I live here now.”

Richie’s arms tightened around him. “Yeah, alright,” he said, and this time Eddie tactfully ignored the way his voice cracked.

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this blanket permission to use this story for any remix, podfic, translation, fanart or other transformative work you'd like, but please inform me, credit me and provide me any links so that I can include it in the notes.
> 
> Hang out with me on [tumblr](https://theres-a-goldensky.tumblr.com/)!


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